So shall
all this pillow talkEnd in gifts and preparations,As all other topics balk,Suddenly on quarter rations.Old memories now come a-haunting,New revived by repetition,Summoned by a wistful wanting,Given one's unwilled condition.Render, then, the season's song,Embracing both the work and playEqually, as both belongTo cherishing the holiday.In love and weary duty go,Needing tokens to bestow,Graced with many loved ones whoShall soon bestow their gifts on
you.